Remember
by Noirian
Summary: The day that Rick got shot, he came across a man by the name of Daryl. Neither of them think anything of it, but when Rick walks into their camp a month later, the two find themselves in the middle of a ridiculous relationship. M/M Slash. Daryl/Rick. Rated M for language and future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Show: The Walking Dead.  
Name: Remember.  
Pairing: Daryl/Rick.  
Author: Noirian.

This a work of fan-fiction. These characters do not belong to me and I do not benefit from this in any way other then having fun.  
Enjoy and if there are any mistakes, just give me a shout-out so I can get right on it.

* * *

The road seemed endless as a man with dark brown hair stalked down the side of the road. A crossbow was slung over his back and his thin lips pressed together in annoyance. Behind him a deputy's car was running along the road, almost trailing before it caught sight of him and revved it's engine to speed up to the man. As it eventually caught up to him, the hunter glared at the car as it slowed to a snail's pace beside him.

"Are you Daryl Dixon?" one of the men inside the car said as he leant out the window, his nose slightly crooked in a way that just seemed to irk the hunter.

"Maybe, why?" he growled back in a thick southern accent, the effort to be nice clearly evident in his voice as he continued to walking.

"Did you report a stolen pick-up truck?" The man asked yet another question, this time causing the man to stop as he whirled to face them.

"Yeah." His blue eyes continued to glare and he crossed his arms, leaning back as he cocked an eyebrow and waited for them to continue.

"Okay, we are going to need you to come down to the station so you can fill out a proper file."

"No." The silence that filled the air between them was only broken by the fact that the hunter had started walking again, the car quickly starting up again to keep up with him.

"Excuse me?" the man almost seemed to spit out as he watched with awe as Daryl continued on his way.

"I have a lot of shit to do; I've already been set back enough." He spoke quickly as he moved the crossbow so it was more comfortable on his back.

"You're not going to get anything done without that truck of yours." Another voice spoke from inside the car, but Daryl couldn't see the owner as he glanced briefly inside before turning his attention back to the road.

"That's why I'm going to get it." He growled, the annoyance in his voice easily being heard through his tone as his large strides covered the ground quickly but quietly. "I swear you cops don't know jack-shit these days." He murmured the last part more to himself but grimaced as he heard the car screech to a halt and the door being opened.

"What did you just say?" The deputy seethed as he stalked up behind Daryl grabbing his shoulder and twisting him to face him.

"I said you fucking cops don't know shit." The hunter spat back at his face, the tension between the two of them rising and becoming thick. "Now you gonna fuck off or what."

"I think I'm going to fuck you up, you inbreed piece of shit!" By now the deputy had his palm placed on his handgun, his fingers already curling around its handle as he started to draw it from his holster.

"Shane calm down. We are here for his report. If he doesn't want to have it done he doesn't have to." A man stepped between the two, effectively dissolving the fight as he placed a hand on his partner's shoulder to calm him down.

"Listen to your friend you stupid shit." Daryl sneered at Shane from behind his new meat-shield, a smug tone to his voice but the rage in him far from disappearing.

"You're not helping." The man sighed before he turned to glance at Daryl over his shoulder. The hunter merely glared at the cloudy blue eyes in front of him.

"I'm not meant to be helping pretty boy." Daryl crooned in the man's ear as he mocked the taller man who cheeks seemed to flush a pale pink. "I just want to go get my god-damn fucking truck!"

"Go then! It's clear you don't want our help!" Shane snarled before he shoved the deputy hand from his shoulder and stormed back to the car. "Rick let's go."

"Alright." The man took a few steps to the car door, his hand gripping the handle before he turned back to Daryl. "If you find your truck don't start anything that's going to end up with us being there."

"Yeah wouldn't want you city-slickers getting your hands dirty, would we." Daryl voice venomously dripped with sarcasm as he fingered the small machete, thinking of really doing some damage before he withdrew his hand. Daryl Dixon may be impulsive but he definitely wasn't idiotic.

"No. We wouldn't." Rick grounded out before he sighed yet again. "Just don't do anything stupid."

"You callin me stupid boy?" the hunter abruptly questioned with the intent of starting a fight as clear as water in his southern voice. His eyes sharply challenged Rick's cloudy orbs before the other man gave him a tired smile and shook his head.

"No. I'm telling you to be careful. Don't forget that." And with a tug on the handle the deputy was gone, safety seated in his car and talking to his partner who was still fuming from his encounter with Daryl.

"Fucking cops; always making things more complicated than they should be." He mumbled to himself as he watched the car do an illegal U-turn before he turned back around to continuing stalking down the road. "I better not lose my truck because of this bullshit."

* * *

"Look! I couldn't find my truck so I came here to fill out the fuckin paperwork!" Daryl snarled at the young deputy, the man shaking as he sat behind a desk and was shouted at by the hunter. "So just give me the goddamn shit!"

"I'm sorry sir, but could you please mind your language." The man quivered as he looked around, hoping another deputy would come help him, but instead they avoided him like the plague. Daryl glared at him some more before he slammed his fist on the desk in front of him, causing a pen holder to tip over onto its side with a loud clutter.

"Are you fuckin serious! Just get me the guy who told me to come here, Dick or something." The hunter's voice was once again growing thick with his accent as more rage set into him at the incompetence of the young man in front of him.

"Do you mean Rick Grimes?" The deputy stopped shaking; instead choosing to look directly into Daryl's snarling face as he loomed over him.

"Just get him over here!"

"I can't." The rejection stunted Daryl for a moment, the shock causing the anger to drain from his face before it rushed back, his tone even more aggressive than before.

"Well why the hell not!" The silence that was between them was thick; resembling the one Daryl had found himself in earlier that day but with only him holding the anger.

"He was shot earlier today and they are operating on him right now. He nearly died." Daryl's glare softened as he watched the deputy's face, searching it to detect if the man was not telling the truth. When he detected nothing, he closed his mouth and nodded for the man to continue. "The bullet hit a main artery and he started too bled out. If it wasn't for the other officers there…" he trailed off, his gaze turning from the hunter in front of him.

"Just get me the paperwork then." Daryl's voice was low and gravely as he spoke, his hand extended as he grabbed one of the pens that had toppled over. "Then I'll leave."

"Alright." The deputy stood and shuffled through on of the cabinets in the large office, eventually pulling out a piece of paper and passing it to the hunter. "Here, just fill in the top half." Daryl grunted as he leant on the desk, his messy handwriting soon filling the form and he passed both it and the pen back to the deputy.

"You better find my truck." He muttered quickly before he turned to stalk off. He suddenly paused though and spun around with frigid shoulders "and thanks for- Rick." Daryl said before continuing on his way out of the small station. He had a long way to walk to get back to his house after all, and no way in hell was he going to be able to hitch hike there.

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That's it until I get round to writing some more. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Show: The Walking Dead.  
Name: Remember.  
Pairing: Daryl/Rick.  
Author: Noirian.

This a work of fan-fiction. These characters/lyrics do not belong to me and I do not benefit from this in any way other then having fun.  
Enjoy and if there are any mistakes, just give me a shout-out so I can get right on it.

* * *

The moment the dark brown haired man entered the Harrison Memorial hospital, he frowned. The entrance smelt disgusting. It was almost comparable to a mix of hand sanitizer and sterilized food, except it was much worse. The only familiar thing here was the smell of leaves and dried blood that was permanently embedded in his clothes, but the scent was barely noticeable compared to the overpowering stench of the hospital. Daryl couldn't wait to get the hell out of here, luckily the police had managed to get his truck back so he didn't have to rely on public transport and hitch hiking anymore.

"Are you Daryl?" a bronze skinned nurse said suddenly, pulling Daryl from his thoughts. He glared at her before responding with a sharp nod.

"Your pig of a brother has left already, said something about needing his magic stash before mentioning how I probably only worked here so I could get with the doctors." She practically sneered before she turned and walked off, her high heels loud against the tiled floor.

"Bitch." Daryl spat out and decided against flipping her the bird, instead quickly scanning the area and locating the front desk where a perky brunette sat. It was almost amazing how people could be so happy in a sanctuary full of disease. Putting this aside, Daryl walked over to the woman; the squeak caused by the rubber soles of his heavy boots on the floor made the nurse notice him. The moment she caught sight of him, her eyes hardened and her smile became forced in a way that the hunter was all to used too.

"Good morning." She greeted him and Daryl nearly grimaced at the sickly sweet tone that was just so damn fake.

"Is Rick Grimes here?" he asked, his low Southern drawl thick against the woman's own petite tone.

"You are about the tenth person to ask about him this week and it's only Tuesday! Must be a good-looking man to be so popular." she winked at him and Daryl frowned, was she insinuating that a man like himself was interested in that city-slicker?

"I wouldn't know." he growled under his breath before he glared at her for good measure. "What's his condition."

"Uh-" The woman sat for a moment in shock at Daryl's sudden change in mood before she turned to her computer and typed in Rick's name. Upon finding the results, she looked nervously at the irritated hunter. "He had a successful operation but is now in a deep coma, however it is stable. He's in room-"

"Thanks for the help." Daryl spoke quickly to cut her off while he wrinkled his nose, the smell of the hospital once again overpowering his senses. He turned around quickly and started to stalk away, very eager to leave the place that made him feel as helpless as a rabbit caught by a fox.

* * *

Daryl glared at the road in front of him as he rested his right arm on the windowsill, his forearm dangling out as he flew down the high way in his pick-up truck. The air was cool and pleasant against his skin but his brow was furrowed in thought as he drove. The radio was quiet in the background, a constant babble of music and voices that was only there to fill the silence. The green forest that surrounded the highway was teeming with life, and the man decided that the moment he got home, he was going hunting. Only after he had told Merle off for not being at the goddamn hospital though.

The hunter's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he watched the tiny red arrow on the gas tank drop lower. If Merle kept on spending all their money on weed again he wouldn't be able to fill up the truck. The bastards who had stolen it had siphoned all the gas before trying to pull it apart; thankfully they were dumb-asses and gave up long before they could do any damage.

_"Your lipstick stains_

_On the front lobe of my-"_

Daryl was as quick as lighting to turn off the radio, his frowning deepening at the thought of listening to anything annoying and repetitive. Music these days was just going down-hill. Glancing back up at the road he noticed a car further up with its doors flung open. The hunter slowed down as he got further to the car, someone was walking over to his window. A women with blonde hair, but as Daryl looked closer he saw a red stain around her mouth. Quickly glancing back at the car in alarm, the hunter could see a child sitting strapped in the back, but they were limp and had what looked like flesh missing from their arm? A sudden bump on the window caused Daryl to jump and as he whipped his head to look at the woman _he could see the fucking flesh caught in between her teeth!_ She moaned and then Daryl put his foot to the pedal to get the hell away from her because what the fuck was that!? What the fuck was that!? People don't eat other people! Especially not their own kids! There were a million things wrong with that!

Worry gnawed at Daryl as he sped faster. He had to get home. If Merle wasn't okay… shaking his head, the hunter just pushed his foot down harder. He couldn't be worrying. He just had to get home.

* * *

Thank-you for all the reviews/follows/favourites. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. (Sorry about the last past paragraph. It's messy and will be fixed up when I have the time.)


	3. Chapter 3

Show: The Walking Dead.  
Name: Remember.  
Pairing: Daryl/Rick.  
Author: Noirian.

This a work of fan-fiction. These characters do not belong to me and I do not benefit from this in any way other than having fun.  
Enjoy and if there are any mistakes, just give me a shout-out so I can get right on it.

* * *

The house that the hunters lived in was old, and had once belonged to their grandfather on their mum's side. The wooden panels had long since started rotting, the brown roof shingles had started to slide off and there would always be that section on the floorboards where the smoke from the fire had stained it, but it was home. And if Merle wasn't there drunk off his ass, Daryl might just start a one-man search party to find him. So when the hunter pulled up in front of their house, immediately jumped out of the truck and sprinted to the door as if all of hell had been cut loose, he didn't think he was overreacting. He just needed to see if his ass of a brother was okay.

* * *

"Merle!" Daryl roared as he tore open the house's door, his heart pulsating in his ears as he searched for his brother frantically. "Where the hell-"

"Hey Darlena." Merle slurred from the couch, his hand waving a beer bottle around to welcome his brother home. "Come drink with me."

"Merle why the fuck weren't you at the hospital." Daryl snarled as he stormed up to the stoned man with the urge him to punch him in his shit-faced glory. Relief flew through the hunter as he noticed his brother had no injuries, although that did little to settle his rampant temper. "If you drove while you were high _I fucking swear_-"

"Calm down dummy," Merle was still slurring as he spoke, his pupils blown large as he tried to concentrate on Daryl. His beer bottle had slipped from his drunken fingers and sat forgotten on the floor as he tried to stand to calm his brother. "I'm here now."

"You need to stop getting high." Daryl growled before he pushed his brother back onto the couch and gave him the dropped beer bottle. With a frustrated sigh, the hunter located the old radio that sat idly on top of their small TV. The tense man quickly switched it on and turned the grey knobs to find the emergency signal. Once he had located it, Daryl glared intently at his older brother while the automatic voice spoke.

_"-advised to go directly to a safe zone. Safe zones available are in the cities Birmingham, Nashville, Charlotte, Jacksonville, Atlanta-"_

Daryl brow furrowed as he thought. They were close to Atlanta; he had been in one of the smaller town districts only a couple of hours ago. But why were these safe zones being put in effect? Did it have to do with that strange woman he saw on the highway? Daryl winced as he thought of her blood-stained mouth, the low moans she had made and the empty hunger in her eyes. That hunger had driven her to eat her own kin… How many other people had already turned into that?

"_Warning. A nationwide alert has been activated. Citizens are advised to go directly to a safe zone. Safe zones available-"_

The hunter quickly turned the radio off and placed it back on their small TV. He stared around their small house for a moment before he sighed and turned to his stoned brother.

"Merle. Get up. We need to pack our things and leave for Atlanta." Daryl was already flitting in and out of rooms as he found the few bags they owned and placed them in a rough pile before started to turn to his brother. "_Now_." The hunter's voice escaped him at the sight of his snoring brother before he frowned and left him be. Merle would be more helpful once had slept off his drunken high for a bit, Daryl knew that from personal experience.

* * *

"Get off!" The hunter snarled as Merle glared at him before he turned the engine, it purring to life under his weathered fingers. "You're wasting gas!"

"Fuck you Daryl. You think you have the guts to tell _me_ what to do? I call the shots around here younger brother so if I wanna ride my motorbike I fucking will." Merle's voice was scratchy as spoke, his voice even dryer than usual from his hangover. "Now get outta the way."

"No!" Daryl roared as he felt his protectiveness seep into his voice and made his accent more prominent as he willed for his brother to _just get off the fucking bike_. "It's too dangerous to split up!"

"I don't care little brother, you say that all this crap is happening yet nothing has changed! You are full of bullshit-"

"Fine. Leave. See if I care if you get eaten alive." Daryl growled and he stormed back to his truck ripping open the door and throwing in the few bags he had with him into the passenger seat. Stepping into it, he slammed the door closed and watched Merle through the side mirror as he revved the motorbike's engine, a small smug smile on his face before he drove off, leaving Daryl behind.

"Better not get left behind _Darlena_!" The older man yelled and Daryl clenched the leather wheel beneath his fingers as his brother's laughter started to fade with the motorbike. The two of them had a long ride to get to Atlanta and Daryl knew that splitting up right now was definitely a bad idea.

* * *

Thanks for all the reviews/follows/favourites. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

Show: The Walking Dead.  
Name: Remember.  
Pairing: Daryl/Rick.  
Author: Noirian.

This is a work of fan-fiction. These characters do not belong to me and I do not benefit from this in any way other than having fun.  
Enjoy and if there are any mistakes, just give me a shout-out so I can get right on it.

* * *

The road to Atlanta was packed and Daryl was stuck at the back of the line. Cars and trucks filled the lanes and only the honking of horns and murmur of worried voices could be heard. Daryl frowned as he looked around for Merle's motorbike amongst the people wandering everywhere, but the shadows from the sun seemed to cover everything in a thick black glaze. With a huff, Daryl glared at the crowd in front of him before he slipped out of his truck and slammed the door shut.

Daryl hated crowds. He hated the way they pushed and shoved, the way they kept on yelling for no reason and the way that there always seemed to be someone stepping on him! It was un-fucking-believable! Not to mention there was no sign of Merle, and knowing his brother, he had probably managed to con some hysterical woman into having sex with him.

It was times like these that the brown haired man absolutely hated his brother with fierce passion. But family was family, and Daryl was perfectly willing to tear apart this crowd to find him. Not that he could, he had only managed to make it five meters from his truck before he came across a solid wall of whining children.

Toddlers were sobbing and clutching their mother's legs, hands, arms; whatever limb they could get their grubby little hands on while the babies screamed their naked heads off. Daryl would rather shoot himself in the head with his crossbow than take care of a kid. All they did was scream, puke and shit. A stoned Merle did all of those things at once and Daryl hated cleaning that crap up. Why would a kid be any different? That's why when a screaming woman started to run towards him from the opposite direction with a shrieking baby in her arms, Daryl wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the sight.

"You've got to help!" she screeched as she grew closer to him. Daryl could see the wrinkles on her face and merely narrowed his pale blue eyes in response to her panic. "He's gone mad and is trying to eat my son!"

The lines connected instantly to the hunter as he realized the man must be like that woman from earlier; the one that had started to eat her own kids. She must have been insane to be able to do that and this man as well if he had attempted what the woman had just screamed. But no matter what, both of them still looked human and they would die all the same. Besides, there were kids here and while the hunter may despise the crap out of them, they were still just defenseless kids.

Daryl reached down and pulled out the small knife tucked away in his boot and flicked it open; this was the only weapon he had on himself due to his crossbow being safely stowed away in his truck. The woman had just run past him and was cowering with the crowd behind him. Daryl would have sneered at her if not for the man stumbling towards him. His face was a pale white, and his jaw was dislocated in a way that made Daryl's stomach churn. Cold lifeless eyes stared at him, never blinking as the man moved closer. It was almost mesmerizing if not for the horrifying hunger that lurked in that dead gaze.

The kids behind him were screaming and Daryl knew that they would have nightmares for weeks. If they survived all this shit.

Crouching slightly, Daryl moved his arm so the blade was facing the man before he started to slowly edge forward. The brown haired man took a deep breath between clenched teeth as he tried to settle his racing heart. He would not panic, if he panicked he would die and the thought terrified Daryl.

But death would not be his fate today. Daryl was adamant of that, or at least he hoped.

The hunter took one more deep breath before he darted forward, bringing his empty hand and slamming it into the man's chin with harsh force as he dug his fingers into the rotting flesh and pulled it up to reveal the man's throat. With a quick motion, Daryl had buried his knife into the throat of the man and released his grip.

The man had to be dead now. Nothing could survive once it no longer had the ability to breath. But the kids were still screaming.

The man gurgled for a moment as he swayed backwards before he lunged for Daryl, hands grabbing onto his shirt and easily ripping holes into it as he reached for his face. Panic rippled through Daryl as he was pushed over by the weight of the man and his head violently hit the tarmac. With pain blooming from the back of his skull and rapidly spreading through his mind, the hunter reached for the knife jammed in the man's throat while he tried to push away the arms that were itching to rip his skin open. But the knife refused to budge and those fingers were so close, _too close_ to him, and by now Daryl's breathing had become stunted through his panic and the only thought that was going through his mind was that fact that _he was going to die as a goddamn motherfucking virgin._

"What are you babies crying about?" Daryl heard someone slur far away and had to admit, that in that very small millisecond, he never been so fucking happy to hear his brother's voice in his life. "Darlena is that you?"

"Merle!" The brown haired man choked the name out as his brother's footstep seemed to take forever to walk over. "Jesus Christ stop taking your time!" he finally managed to yell, his accent distorting each word in his panic as that unnerving dislocated jaw came closer and closer to his skin.

"What did I say about you telling me what to do?" Merle's voice was suddenly loud near Daryl's ear as he easily grabbed the man's chin and pulled him up and away from his little brother. The hunter could only watch in shock as his still hung-over-brother ripped the knife from the man's throat and shoved it into his eye socket as if he had done it a million times beforehand. Then he simply tossed the body of the man to the side before it could crumple in his grasp.

"And what the fuck did I say about it being dangerous for us to split up." Daryl murmured as he rested his head on the tarmac and stared at the mix of orange, purple and blue that was the sun setting for what had been a very long day.

Daryl really couldn't give one fuck about the sky right now.

"Hey dummy." The hunter glanced over at Merle who was leisurely kicking the rotting corpse, but when his brother finally turned to look at him, Daryl could have smiled at the slight concern resting in those sharp blue eyes. "It's gotta be the brain; it's the only way to kill one of these bastards."

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Thank-you for reading this chapter; I hope you enjoyed it. Also, thanks for all the reviews/follows/favourites.


	5. Chapter 5

Show: The Walking Dead.  
Name: Remember.  
Pairing: Daryl/Rick.  
Author: Noirian.

This is a work of fan-fiction. These characters do not belong to me and I do not benefit from this in any way other than having fun.  
Enjoy and if there are any mistakes, just give me a shout-out so I can get right on it.

* * *

It had been a day since Atlanta had been overrun. People had fallen like flies to the fever and then awoken what felt like mere minutes later. In fact, most of the people on the highway to Atlanta had died the night after the enormous explosion in the city. Daryl and Merle had watched from the top of his pickup-truck after they loaded the motorbike on to the storage tray.

The explosion had lit up the entire sky with tall orange flames and thick black smoke that curled its way up around the skyscrapers. That was when panic really struck the crowd around them. It was like something had just clicked in all of them. Everyone had started pushing, shoving, yelling; anything to get into a car and drive away from this nightmare. Except it's impossible to drive away from reality, but that sure as hell wouldn't stop Daryl from trying.

So the hunter drove, and drove, and drove until he was bleary eyed and Merle was telling him to turn at this intersection. Soon the intersection had become an old dusty dirt road that led into the forest. At some point Merle had forced Daryl to stop the car and gotten out before he shoved his younger brother into the passenger seat to take control of the wheel. The hunter had numbly slid over as he turned his gaze to the window His pale orbs watching the dark forest roll past as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Soon the shadows of the forest had seeped into the towering trees, turning his vision into a dark dreamless sleep.

When the brown haired man had awoken, he found that Merle had driven them to a clearing filled with other people that had started to call themselves "survivors". He had barely been awake when his brother had whispered to him how they would only stay for a week or two because they needed to steal supplies. Then they would ditch these guys before they were none the wiser.

Daryl had protested, saying how they should just leave and not take these people's supplies, but then he heard a familiar voice. And it was one he could never forget, It was that fucking cop that had spewed insults at him when he was already having a pretty shit day. And now this cop was ordering people around as if he was the high and mighty while they were all too stupid to think for themselves. Daryl decided in that split second that he would only rob that cop and no one else.

Bitch deserved it for calling him an inbred piece of shit.

But there was one good thing to come out of the freak appearance of this cop, and it was the reminder of the other deputy that had been there on the day of their argument. Daryl couldn't really remember much about the other deputy, having spent most of the conversation staring at his back, but he could remember his voice. That kind but stern voice telling him to stay safe, sort of ironic telling him that when a week later the apocalypse hit and dead people were walking about. And that wasn't even mentioning the fact that said deputy ended up being shot and having to go into a coma.

The world had a funny sense of humor like that.

Now, Daryl wasn't the sort of person to go around wishing people dead, despite the stereotype, but the hunter really wished that the cop walking around here was the one lying comatose in a hospital; instead of the kind man that died along with the rest of humanity.

* * *

It had been nearly two weeks since they had joined this camp. And they were still here. Merle had gone to Atlanta on what Daryl had called a suicide run, but the group had roped him into it, practically threatening to kick them out if they didn't. The hunter had sworn at Merle, telling him that it was a 'bad fucking idea.' All it earned him was a smack on the back of the head and his brother telling him to go hunting while he was gone.

So he did just that, but without Merle around, Daryl was on edge. He knew that his brother could take care of himself, but it seemed that whenever Daryl looked away, shit would hit the fan. But Daryl had to focus, clear his mind and continue hunting. And with a few deep breaths, Merle and his worries were stowed away, at least for the moment.

The forest was teeming with life, the hunter just had to find it and bury one of his arrows in between its eyes. Squirrels were the most common animal he could find but there were the few moments where he would find a hare. However, what Daryl did look forward to was the day he would find a deer. He had seen tracks around the area but they were too old and could have led him anywhere. It was too dangerous to wander away by himself but Daryl really didn't care.

Shane, the cop from before, had told him that but the hunter had decided he was a control freak after he had tried to confiscate Merle's gun. The man hadn't exactly been head over heels to introduce himself to Daryl either, especially after his fight with his older brother, but had managed it without causing a scene. Although that might be due to the fact that he had his family with him. A wife, a kid, the whole goddamn package.

The woman, his wife, was pretty thing, a bit too thin for Daryl but she had a strong face and stubborn eyes. She would survive in this world for a while, and when she finally went down, it would be for a goddamn good reason. Daryl could just feel it.

The kid on the other hand seemed so small, almost fragile. But being ripped from his comfortable life and pushed into a world where the dead walk among the living would destroy most people. The kid probably hasn't even seen many of these walkers yet, but he would, they all would.

Daryl glanced for a moment at the sky; it was almost sun down, not to mention that he was pretty far from camp. He must have wandered too deep into his thoughts and had allowed too much time to pass. Even so, he had still had managed to gather a decent amount of squirrels. Too bad the group wouldn't be eating any of it tonight; there was no way Daryl would be able to get back to camp in the dark. These woods were dense and thick even during the day and would only be worse at night; he would have to spend the night out here unless he wanted to get lost as well as becoming vulnerable yet again. Daryl really didn't want another close encounter with a walker, not without some back-up at least and out here in the forest, he was sure no one would be to hear him, let alone be able to get to him in time if he was in danger.

With an irritated sigh, Daryl examined the tall trees around him. Many of them had what looked like stable branches. He could climb up one to avoid any wandering hostiles while he slept, but he would also have to tie himself to the trunk so he wouldn't accidentally fall out and crack his spine in half.

Daryl's lips pressed into a thin line as he grabbed one of the branches of a near by tree and hoisted himself up. His muscles strained under the weight of all the dead Squirrels hanging around his waist as they pulled him down, but the hunter kept on climbing and tried to not focus on how many times he lost his footing on the slippery branches. He really just wanted a goodnight's rest and would try and have it even if he was lying down on a hopefully strong branch.

This new world where the dead just get up and start walking around really was becoming a fucking pain in the ass.

* * *

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. And thank-you again for the reviews/favs/follows, especially the reviews. It's wonderful being able to hear your opinions on the chapters.


	6. Chapter 6

Show: The Walking Dead.  
Name: Remember.  
Pairing: Daryl/Rick.  
Author: Noirian.

This is a work of fan-fiction. These characters do not belong to me and I do not benefit from this in any way other than having fun.  
Enjoy and if there are any mistakes, just give me a shout-out so I can get right on it.

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The sound of soft steps woke Daryl immediately, and without hesitation, he started to search for the source of noise while he drew his crossbow. It was a familiar sort of noise, but Daryl couldn't quite remember what animal it belonged to. It hadn't been that long since this apocalypse had started but this new way of life was starting to become real familiar to the hunter in a way that it easily replaced what he once knew. He was always expecting to hear the staggered footsteps of a walker instead of an animal these days.

The soft steps were close by, close enough to be just under the tree he was perched on. So Daryl peered over the edge of the tree to have a glance at the creature. The moment he saw it, the hunter's breath caught in his throat and he merely watched in disbelief.

It was a deer. Beautiful, dark brown fur covered her while pale cream spots were dotted all over her back. Daryl let a smile worm its way onto his face as he watched the serene scene for a moment before he brought his crossbow up to his eyes. He lined the animal up slowly, taking his time to aim at her head before he switched to her heart.

The deer cautiously smelt the ground; she could probably smell the faint trace of Daryl from the night before when he had been hunting. Suddenly she jolted her head up and Daryl fired the crossbow, letting an arrow soar into the direction of her heart. However something had spooked her and she had jumped away just in time to allow the arrow to land neatly in her leg instead of her chest. Daryl struggled for a moment against the ropes as she bounded away with a limp, the brown haired man simply forgetting that he had tied himself to a tree in favour of hunting that deer. With a quick motion, Daryl had grabbed the knife tucked away in his belt and sawed through the rope that tethered him to safety before he lowered himself down from branch to branch. By the time his boots had hit the ground, the deer was long gone, but instead of giving up, Daryl's gaze slid to the floor as he started to search the ground for the tracks of the animal.

His eyes instantly caught the slight indent in the ground from the hoof of the deer that would have been overlooked by anyone else with less experience. The man set off at a cautious but fast pace as he followed the tracks of the animal through the thick undergrowth of the forest. By now the deer would be far away and any amount of running from Daryl would not only alert the deer if she was nearby; but would also cause for him to tire himself out. He would have to tread carefully to eventually catch up to the elegant beast, but this delicate caution would be worth the effort if he could retrieve the meat from the gentle creature for 'the group' tonight.

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The sun was hot, throwing its hot waves through the trees to attack Daryl's skin. There was a small sheen of sweat covering the hunter and it forced his hair to stick to his scalp in the most uncomfortable way. The sweat that stuck to him seemed endless and no matter how many times the hunter wiped his hands dry, they would be slicked again mere moments later.

It had to be close to mid-day by now and Daryl was growing weary of the hunt and of the dead squirrels around his waist. They would probably start to rot and smell if he didn't get them back to camp soon. Hopefully nothing feral would be attracted to him if he stayed out here with the slowly rotting meat.

And then Daryl heard it. A scream that was far away, yet still so close.

It was a young girl, probably one of the little ones in the group. Daryl's mind shut down at this point as he started to sprint in the direction of her voice. Unless she was gifted with an unusually large set of lungs, she should be nearby and had probably just seen a walker. Those things were more likely to pop up in forests then a bear these days.

The hunter was light but fast on his feet as he ran and dodged trees, his crossbow in his hand and ready to shoot as he headed to where he hoped the girl was. He ignored all the doubts that his mind whispered to him of situations where he was too late or that the rest of the group had ignored her scream. Merle would have unless it was his own blood and even then Daryl wasn't completely sure, at least not these past few days.

But even in this confusing state, it didn't stop the worry that had started to pool in Daryl's stomach as he thought of his brother in Atlanta with all of those strangers. They couldn't trust anyone but themselves here, and the hunter felt that he had been ignoring that simple rule lately. It was nice to be around people that accepted him for once, even if it was only a small extent due to his hunting abilities.

All of a sudden, Daryl's foot was snagged on a small root and he tumbled to the ground causing leaves and branches to crunch beneath him. A small grunt escaped the hunter as he landed on his side, one of his hands catching the ground while the other kept his crossbow away from him. He didn't want to accidentally shoot himself in the side after all.

As Daryl scrambled to get up, he realized that the forest had gone quiet. It was strange and eerie, but while the hunter generally hated silence, anything was better than a little girl's screams.

With a deep breathe to steady himself, Daryl continued on his way. He was no longer running, instead he had slowed his pace to minimalize the noise that his footsteps caused; the hunter didn't want the attention of any stray walker if they were nearby. However while his footsteps were soft as he moved forward, there was a dull thud that grew louder and louder the closer he came to the spot where the girl had screamed. As he peered through bushes in front of him, Daryl let out a sigh of relief before he pushed the branches to the side and walked through.

Six faces stared at Daryl as he made his entrance and the hunter's eyes narrowed as he recognized the deer that was lying on the ground. A scowl graced his face as he noticed the organs that were trailing from the animal's neck; her fur was stained with blood and shredded beyond recognition. The deer's beauty had been completely and utterly destroyed by the decapitated walker who was resting a meter away from Daryl.

"Son of a bitch, that's my deer! The hunter snarled as he strode towards the dead body, his eyes completely fixated on what should have been his kill. "Look at it!" Daryl gestured to the torn organs at this point. "All gnawed on by this... filthy, disease-bearing, motherless, poxy bastard!" the hunter kicked the body of the walker with each insult before he sneered at it. The urge to crush the fucking thing's head filled his mind, but instead he tore his eyes to look at Dale, who was practically mumbling.

"Calm down son. That's not helping." the man's weary tone only agitated Daryl even more, causing him to unleash some of his rage on the aged retiree.

"What do you know about it old man!?" The hunter's accent grew thick with anger as he strode towards Dale, taking special care to make the man physically uncomfortable as he got close to his face. "You take that stupid hat and go back to your golden Nepal." He spat out his last words before he turned around to look at the other men. And that's when Daryl saw him.

Dark blue eyes were what first captivated the hunter's attention and while it was the confused gaze that drew him in; it was that face that made him unable to look away. A dead man was standing in front of him and he wasn't a walker. He was a man that was breathing, thinking and staring right back at Daryl. Those blue eyes were challenging him to say or do something, but the hunter didn't know what this man could possibly want him to do. So he turned his attention to the deer and spewed the first thing that came to mind while his stomach churned nervously. The hunter would do anything to keep his mind away from the man that had been dead only yesterday.

"Been tracking this deer for miles," Daryl started to circle the deer at this point, his gut tossed and turned as he felt everyone's eyes watching his every move. "Was gonna drag it back to camp. Cook us up some venison." At this point the hunter ripped his arrow from the deer and slid it back into place on his crossbow before he knelt down beside the body and inspected it. Another eerie silence had taken over the small clearing the moment he had stopped speaking; it was incredibly unnerving for the hunter who was so used to having nature chirping around him.

"What do you think; think we can cut around the chewed up part right here?" Daryl left the question hanging as he indicated towards the organs that had been ripped out. He turned to the group abruptly and refused to let his own eyes wander over to the once-dead deputy, instead he looked all the other men in the eyes as he waited for a reply.

"I would not risk that." The hunter's gaze flicked over to Shane, who was fidgeting with his gun as he checked the barrel of the weapon.

A wry smile worked its way onto Daryl's face as he noted the cop's uncomfortable stance around himself before he spoke. His accent caused the words to seem slow and drawn out which only caused Shane to feel more discomfort. Any discomfort that he caused the cop was good discomfort in Daryl's opinion.

"That's a damn shame." The hunter stood up at this point and counted the animals tied around his waist, his body was tense with all the attention that was focused on him, all those eyes that were staring at him and waiting for him to explode like Merle would have. "I got some squirrel, a dozen or so. That'll have to do."

The sun's heat was still unbearable at this point, and as Daryl wiped his brow with his spare hand, he heard a low growl and the clashing of teeth as the walker's head once again reanimated.

"Oh god." a blonde woman murmured; Amy was her name if Daryl remembered right. The disgust was visible in her tone as she watched in horror as the head furiously tried to make its way to the closest person. The hunter rolled his eyes at her reaction; she was acting as if she had never seen a walker before which they all knew was a lie. Everyone here had seen a walker, whether it be family, friend or a stranger on the street. There was no use in pretending that they didn't exist. That would only get you killed.

"C'mon people. What the hell?" Daryl gave a huff before he pulled out his crossbow and stormed over to the decapitated head. The hunter placed his foot on the forehead of the walker to steady it as it snarled at him like the mindless animal it was.

The hunter once again brought his crossbow up to his eye, but instead of having a deer on the other side of the weapon, there was the monster that had destroyed the animal's beauty. Daryl let the frustration of the moment fill him for a second before he pulled the trigger and watched the arrow fly perfectly through the eye of the walker and into the brain. Almost immediately the hunter leant down and pulled his arrow from the head. He wiped the infected blood off on his torn shirt and grimaced at the stain it would probably leave.

When the arrow had been reloaded into his crossbow, Daryl shook his head and slung his weapon across his back. "It's gotta be the brain." The hunter murmured before he shrugged and started walking towards their camp. Daryl could feel the once-dead deputy's gaze on him as he walked past and couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face as he felt those blue eyes examine him. "Don't y'all know nothing?"

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Thank-you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And of course thank you for the reviews/favs/follows.

This story has over a hundred followers now. I never thought it would have so many when this little idea sparked in my mind and I just wanted to give all of you my gratitude for being patient with the non-frequent updates. I really do appreciate it. =)

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On a completely different note however, I need you guys to help me out. And while I hate putting this type of note in a chapter, I guess I'm desperate. I'm a senior art student and for my last folio I need a survey to be completed by other folk that I don't know. If you want to help out, the link can be seen on my profile and it would be amazing if you could give it to others as well. I need as many people as I can get to complete it in a short amount of time but if you don't want to help me out, that is totally cool and I understand. Thank-you and please have a good day.


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